


Bullshit Magical Sex Whammy

by coaster



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Community: cap_ironman, Dubious Science, Established Relationship, First Time, For Science!, Gen, M/M, Magic Made Them Do It, Masturbation, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Pre-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Sex Pollen, Sexual Frustration, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-06
Updated: 2017-08-06
Packaged: 2018-12-12 02:09:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11727306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coaster/pseuds/coaster
Summary: When life gives you bullshit lemons in the form of a witch randomly bespelling you into really wanting to have sex with the person you're in a relationship with, who was also bespelled into really wanting to have sex with you, the best course of action is to lock yourself away in your workshop to conduct experiments on the effects of the bullshit 'spell' so you won't end up sleeping with the person you're already in a relationship with because you have issues keeping you from being happy.~It was the worst 24-hours of Tony's life. He just wanted to have sex with Steve. He's never had sex with Steve. He shouldn't have sex with Steve.He really wanted to have sex with Steve.





	Bullshit Magical Sex Whammy

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the second round of the 2017 Cap-Iron Man Bingo, for the square "Abandonment Issues". Yeah, it somehow turned into some kind of sex pollen fic. \o/ No regrets!
> 
> This takes place in that twilight zone after the fall of SHIELD and before the Avengers find the scepter. Steve's DC apartment is gone, Tony's Malibu mansion is gone, and Avengers Tower has become the Avengers headquarters regardless of whether or not any of them live there. For the sake of this story, I'm going to have Steve and Tony living at the tower. 
> 
> Thank you to the wonderful [Robin_tCJ](http://archiveofourown.org/users/robin_tcj) for beta-ing this fic! I couldn't have made it without you! All remaining errors are my own.

 

 

All in all, it hadn’t exactly played out like a routine Villain Beat-Down. The last thing any of them had expected, other-worldly Thor included, was a teenaged tantrum followed by something Tony still didn’t have a handle on. He wasn’t calling it magic, that was for sure.

“Listen, kid,” Tony began.

“Witch!” the kid screamed at him from down on the street. “I’m a witch! And I'm eighteen! I’m not a kid!”

Tony suppressed the urge to roll his eyes as he drifted out of the way of a shot of pink energy. “Witch, then. Listen, witch. I know a guy who can help you control those party tricks of yours—“

“No!” the kid yelled at him and shot another round of that pink energy in his general direction.

Tony didn’t want to test out what they would do to a person so he dodged again, rolling lazily around the ball of pink. The feeds on his HUD showed Clint on the rooftop opposite the kid, arrow notched but not drawn. Bruce was hovering nervously in their landed Quinjet a little ways off. Natasha was approaching the kid front on, batons stowed and hands raised. Steve and Thor were making their way toward the kid from the sides, hammer down but poised to spin and shield ready to be raised.

Tony gave a brief thought to being the filling in that blond sandwich before taking his brain out of the gutter to focus on the task at hand.

It was late in the afternoon and they were in Flushing, having just returned from an unsuccessful raid of a HYDRA base in Sweden where Loki's Stick of Doom was unsurprisingly absent. Tony hadn’t even had time to make a cool-down smoothie before Maria alerted them of some trouble in the streets that the local police weren’t able to contain.

The trouble turned out to be a fledgling _witch_ , apparently new to her powers and mastering them even as they were having this confrontation out in the evacuated streets. Smart kid, Tony had to admit. Kept them all busy for more than a few minutes. Just needed some guidance.

“We promise not to hurt you,” Steve said, his calming 'Captain' voice in full effect. “You’re in safe hands with us. We want to help. If you come with us, we can—“

Another shot of pink was flung in Steve’s direction and he deflected it to the ground with his shield. It dissipated in a puff of light. Not much kinetic energy, Tony observed. JARVIS was analyzing every shot – all that came of it was that the light, or energy, or whatever it was, was on the visible EM spectrum. That didn't explain how the dilapidated building she was fixated on had warping windows and trees sprouting horizontal from the sides and—he wasn’t calling it _magic_.

“You can't make me do anything! I’m not going anywhere with you! Mind your own business and leave me alone!”

JARVIS threw up a flashing warning for him but Tony didn’t have time to warn his teammates.

A wave of red light bloomed in a dome from the kid, washing over everything on the streets and over Tony’s hovering form in the air. Tony’s filters couldn’t keep the light out and by the time he managed to blink away the spots in his vision, the kid was gone.

Tony found that he didn’t care.

There was an itch under his skin and a hitch in his breath. His mind, usually so sharp, was suddenly in a jumble, as if he’d had way too much to drink, as if he were on something much, much stronger than alcohol. Except his body felt like it was thrumming with some kind of—some kind of _need_ racing through his veins. And he hadn’t been drinking much at all ever since he and Steve had gotten togeth—

The HUD helpfully informed him of a spike in heart rate, respiratory rate, and core temperature. His brain waves were going crazy. He felt a sheen of sweat break across his brow. His crotch region felt uncomfortably tight in the armor. And all he could think about was tasting Steve’s lips. Feeling Steve’s hands across his skin, gripping, pulling, pushing. The weight of Steve’s—

“What was that?” Steve’s voice came through the comms, shaken and so breathtakingly arousing. “What did she do? Something’s not right.”

—body on top of his. The taste of Steve's come on his tongu—

Tony shook the visions out of his head. It was one thing to have fleeting intrusive thoughts at random, but those had been entirely too vivid, too _tangible._ He gritted his teeth and focused on the state of his teammates. Clint and Natasha had moved away somewhere together, their comms switched off and trackers disabled halfway towards the Quinjet. There was a burned circle of runes in the middle of the street; Thor had evidently taken off somewhere by way of Heimdall and the rainbow brick road. And Steve—

Tony needed Steve. He needed Steve’s mouth on him. He needed to taste Steve’s skin, leave his mark. He wanted to plaster himself to Steve, climb him like a damn tree, taste—

Oh, God.

He’d been doing so well with Steve—with their little blossoming relationship. He’d been keeping his hands to himself. Keeping it above the belt. _Taking it slow_ . This wasn’t him. This was—this was _magic_.

Wait.

No.

This was not _magic_ and he was not going to succumb to this _thing_ he couldn’t even _define_ because he was _Tony Stark,_ and Tony Stark did not succumb to things he could not define. His coherence was leaving him quickly with every glimpse of Steve’s flushed skin. He bit hard at his tongue, using the pain to focus his thoughts away from imagining how best to give a blowjob in armor. Steve was breathing heavily, Tony could tell from his vantage point. Breathing heavily and staring directly up at Tony with naked desire.

Oh. God.

There was a roar in the distance, and Tony turned in time to see something massive and green jump from the departing Quinjet. The Hulk landed on the street with an enormous boom, heedless of the giant dust and concrete cloud he created. Tony hovered inches off the ground and let Hulk stand between him and Steve, hiding Steve from sight for a merciful moment.

Tony gathered himself and tried to use his voice. “Big guy?” he prompted.

“Banner think funny. Hulk save Banner.” Hulk shuffled around the street. “Hulk wait.”

Hulk lumbered away to sit down on the street corner and Tony, mind hazing over again at the sight of Steve before him, took that as a sign of both Bruce’s and Hulk's wellbeing. Natasha and Clint could take care of themselves and Tony didn't particularly care where they were taking the Quinjet. Right now, what he cared about was getting his hands on Steve. He needed to get every part of himself in contact with Steve. They needed to be horizontal. Or vertical. Tony wasn’t picky. Maybe Steve was strong enough to just pick him up, armor and all, hold him up, and just _use_ him—

No. No no no no, no.

No.

Tony was not doing this. This was going to undo all his hard work. Undo the little bit of happiness he’d been trying to build with Steve, to _preserve, God dammit_. He was going to investigate this first, get rid of its effects, and then think about his romantic life choices—

Bracing himself, he flew forward and picked Steve up into his arms in their usual travel style. As he lifted off to take them back to the Tower, he tried his damnedest to ignore how Steve was mouthing the outside of his suit at the collars of his chest plate. He couldn’t feel it but his sensors were telling him the hand Steve had over his shoulders was stroking slowly at the armor plates of his neck. If this were some day in the far future, if they were still together in the far future, he would have landed on the nearest roof and had his way with Steve.

Maybe he should. That roof looked particularly suitable—

No!

Tony gave extra credit to his excellent self-control after only a dozen dips to a dozen rooftops on the way to his Tower.

Back at the Tower, Maria was waiting for them in the landing bay and Tony ignored her look of complete shock at what must have been a magnificent sight of Captain America attempting to make out with the Iron Man suit.

“Can’t talk. Kid got away. Whammied us. No property damage. No civilians hurt. Probably. Hulk loose. Check on him. Ask J for details. Need time out. Don’t come knocking, sock on handle, etcetera.”

Tony walked right past Maria after his thorough report, tugging a very pliant Steve along into the elevator. He couldn’t help but feel an irrational surge of pride and smugness when Steve didn’t even give Maria a single look.

JARVIS kindly took them up to the penthouse and Tony deposited Steve at the door to their bedroom. Steve tried to pull him in but Tony in the suit was always stronger and he pushed Steve away with ease.

He could do so much to Steve while in the suit—

“Twenty-four hours,” Tony managed to say. “Just. Twenty-four hours. Let me“ —Tony pried Steve’s insistent hands from the release catches on the suit’s torso— “let me see what this is. Let me—let me test it. Give me twenty-four hours. Do some experimenting. Flush it out. You—“

“Tony,” Steve cut in, voice a rasp. He pulled off his blue helmet in one fluid movement and tore open the front of his own star spangled uniform revealing a sweat soaked chest to Tony. “Bed. Now.” He licked his lips, his darkened eyes boring into Tony's. Tony’s mouth went dry.

Oh, God.

Oh, _God._ None of the Greek Gods have got anything on those pectorals. Tony could just bite them through that blue under-armor—

Tony shook his head, hard, and shoved at Steve’s unfairly gorgeous chest.

“Stay in the room,” Tony begged, desperate. “Give me twenty-four hours. Twenty-four. I’ll figure this out.” Tony gave one last look at the spit-shiny redness of Steve’s lips and left with a blast of repulsors before he could be enticed even further.

 

* * *

 

Down in Tony’s private workshop, Tony shed the suit and freed himself into the cool, filtered air. His crotch thanked him but also screamed at him for more contact. More pressure. More friction. More more more—

“JARVIS!” he called out.

“At your service, sir,” JARVIS replied immediately.

Tony fought the urge to brace himself on the nearest surface and rub himself raw. “File the biometrics from the suit under—under new project titled Bullshit Very Unscientific Sex Whammy Thing. Open new private workspace for data collection. Instate level three laboratory lockdown and class five safeguards.”

“Of course, sir. Project AESP3-79-89 codenamed Bullshit Very Unscientific Sex Whammy Thing has been created. I’ve also taken the liberty in preparing a shower with a fresh change of clothes at the ready.”

Tony grunted in thanks and sat himself down at the nearest workbench and tried very, very hard not to touch any part of himself. He could do this. He could focus on tasks at hand despite intoxication and altered states of mind, as he full well knew from experience.

Except this wasn’t like any level of intoxication he’d ever experienced and his experiences had been, put simply, extremely extensive. This was almost a compulsion. This was a craving he had never encountered before. This was a craving he felt right down to the very core of his being, and maybe right down to his soul if he believed in that kind of thing. It was almost physically tugging at him towards something.   _Someone_.

There was one thing he was craving, one thing to satisfy the itchy heat crawling beneath his skin and the thoughts inflaming his mind: Steve.

Tony groaned and dropped his head onto the hard surface of the bench. The tools rattled. He closed his eyes and all he could see was Steve. Steve’s smile. Steve’s face twisted in ecstasy as he comes, legs spread, Tony’s fingers insi—

No.

That was all fantasy. All of the images had been fantasy. None of that had happened yet because Tony was trying to sustain a long-term relationship for a _long term_. Really, this was the worst time to be thinking about this. This was the wrong time to pull up his memories of Steve gently kissing him in bed and turn them into a fantasy of Steve rolling on top of him to deepen the kiss, a fantasy of Steve kissing down his chest, lower and lower until—

An hour of anguish later, he managed to sit up and walk to the workshop bathroom, pretending his hands hadn’t just been involuntarily down his pants moments before. The cold water didn’t help his thoughts one bit but his dick did calm down to a middling hardness and he let JARVIS file that bit of information away. He did not tell JARVIS to pull up the feed from the bedroom where Steve was likely experiencing the same thing. He did not ask if Steve was experiencing the same thing because he didn’t want to hear either of the potential answers.

He left the shower in simple cotton pants and shirt, taking his place at his primary workstation. Biology wasn't his area of expertise but he knew enough to conduct these experiments.

Two hours later, after feeding samples from his armor and biological samples from himself through several machines, after multiple EEG scans and physical and cognitive tests, after a priapism scare that didn't amount to anything because his dick looked and felt absolutely normal beyond the part where it was constantly hard and begging for contact, Tony was stumped for a quick answer. Everything was normal. Everything was normal except for the increasingly vivid images in his mind of the broad expanse of Steve’s naked back, the flex of Steve's abs, the need to taste Steve’s di—

No quick fix, then.

Tony slumped onto the cot DUM-E and U had hastily assembled and stared at the pitched tent in his pants. He hadn’t needed to use the cot for months now. He’d been going to bed at regular hours. With Steve. And now this. Not even Steve’s absence was making it easier for him to think.

“JARVIS,” he called out again, “commence part two of Phase One.”

“Might I suggest you take some nutrients first, sir?” JARVIS enquired. At the same time, U wheeled over with a large cup of green smoothie and a cheeseburger on a tray.

Tony sat up with a sigh. He took the food from U and waved the little bot off with a pat; he hadn't had food for almost twelve hours and he'd probably need the fluids. He ate the burger in three bites and chugged down the smoothie before continuing.

Meditation. It didn't work. He couldn't empty his mind and he couldn't focus on any part of his body without immediately veering into fantasizing how it would feel under Steve's tongue. He couldn't keep his breathing even and he ended up panting from the exertion of keeping his hands off himself. So he took to the treadmill, which also didn't work. Running with a boner just wasn't logistical. He tried a few routines at his wooden dummy but he ended up being smacked in the face more than anything. He took one look at 'electroconvulsion therapy' on the list and moved straight on. He took a cold shower again. He imagined licking Steve open under the spray of water. He couldn't take it anymore. He flopped back onto the cot after two hours, buzzing out of his skin with _need._

"Fuck it. Phase Two, J."

"Of course, sir."

“Masturbating for science,” Tony muttered to himself as he wriggled out of his pants. “Never thought those words would make it out of my mouth again.” Filing away the fantastic mental image of Steve’s mouth and of things going into Steve's mouth, he made sure the biometrics from his finger, wrist, and head were still being read clearly and then got down to business.

Another three hours and eight explosive, yet unsatisfying, orgasms later, he had an entire library of fantasies built up in his mind for things he could do with Steve – things he could do _to_ Steve and things Steve could do to him. It was impossible to think of anything else. Every single surface in the workshop and the Tower could be used. Every lighting permutation had an associated simulation of its effects on Steve’s hair, skin, his eyes. God, Steve could bend Tony over the railings outside the Tower, fuck him with his fist, and Tony could scream for more. And yet with every impossible spurt of come over his stomach, the buzzing beneath his skin grew more and more unbearable. His dick was starting to chafe from the attention despite the lube and the soft toweling but it wouldn’t stop demanding more, hardening after every increasingly dry orgasm like he was a teenager again. Until the rest of his body finally gave up.

Tony didn’t think he’d ever come this many times in such a short span even when he’d _been_ a teenager. He was sure it wasn't physiologically possible. He also didn’t think he could want Steve any more than he did right this moment. He needed Steve so much his dick was literally aching for it.

“Sir.” JARVIS interrupted another round of Tony imagining Steve straddling him, head thrown back, _so hot inside, so tight_ —

“Captain Rogers has been at the door for the past half hour. I believe it would be prudent for you to hear what he has to say.”

Tony groaned, pressing the heels of his palms hard into his eyes until his vision marbled. Steve’s name alone was enough to kill higher cognitive functions for a second there. He took a few deep breaths and signaled for JARVIS to open audio-only communication to the outside hallway. “What are the chances you won’t jump me if I let you in?” Tony asked casually.

There was a small chuckle from Steve which went straight to Tony’s groin. “What are the chances you _will_ jump me if you let me in?”

Tony only grunted in reply.

There was silence from the speakers and Tony tried hard to listen for any sign of life from Steve and to ignore the fact that Steve had been _on the other side of the wall from him while he was rubbing one out_. He buried his head under the little pillow of the cot and brought himself under control by sheer force of will.

“How’re you holding up?” Steve asked. He sounded tired.

“More turned on than I have ever been in my life. My arm’s ready for the Masturbation Olympics. You?”

There was a long silence before Steve answered. “Same.”

Tony rolled over in the cot and stared up at the spotlights. He was not going to think about Steve masturbating because that way lay madness. He was not going to think of how Steve was probably sitting outside, fly open, dick in hand, moaning Tony's name as he—

No!

He needed more data. He should get some data out of Steve but only once he felt like he could do it without his dick leading him in other directions.

“Nothing works,” Steve said after a pause.

Tony’s mind went straight to the gutter. Tony’s mind went _out to sea._ What had Steve tried? Surely he’d tried giving himself a handjob. But what else? Did he pull up images to help? Did he pull up videos? Videos of Tony? Sexy videos of Tony? Did he put anything inside himself? Fingers? A toy? Did Steve own any toys? Tony owned toys. Tony owned many toys. Tony wouldn’t mind sharing those toys with Steve, not at all, if it meant they could play with them togeth—

“Did you go find someone to give you a hand?” Tony asked before his brain-to-mouth filters caught up.

“What kind of question is that?” Steve asked right back, voice sharp. “You know I wouldn’t. Not unless it was with you.”

Tony buried his face in his hands. Of course Steve wouldn’t. Even if they hadn’t exactly officially named this precious little thing they had between them. This relationship. Regular kissing meant a relationship, right? “Just ignore everything that’s coming out of my mouth,” he said. He rubbed his face and reached for the bottle of water one of his bots had put beside him.

“Maybe I can give you something to put into your mouth?”

Tony choked on his water. “Fuck—you can’t—that’s not—that's—“

“Sorry,” Steve continued. “It’s just so hard." A pause. "And I’m not sure how much you can take.”

Tony choked on his tongue. “Oh, my God, I’m telling Bruce. He thinks you’re so prudish. You are _not_ prudish. I have to say, I like it when you’re not prudish. I _really_ like it when you’re not prudish.” He cut himself off before he could go into exact detail on how not-prudish he would like Steve to be. Christ, how had he ever thought Steve to be prudish?

There was a loud sigh. “I can be not-prudish on the other side of the wall. With you.”

That brought Tony up short. “How do you know you're not just fixated on me in particular because of the whammy? Because I'm the first person you saw?”

“Because I was standing next to and looking at Thor when it happened and my first thought was still of you,” came the reply without pause.

“That doesn’t prove anything,” Tony pressed on. “She could've known we were together. We haven't exactly been coy about holding hands. Laser-targeted Cupid bullet. It's the twenty-first century. It’s a thing.” Look at him, arguing logic into what was increasingly likely to be hand-wavey magic.

“Or maybe,” came the testy reply, “we were just made to feel like this physically, and our own minds decided who we want to feel it with.”

Tony had no rebuttal. It wasn’t entirely out of the possibilities.

“JARVIS said you had something to say?” he asked instead.

“I wanted to ask you something,” Steve’s hesitant voice came after a pause. “Um.” Silence. Tony raised an eyebrow, waiting. “But first tell me what your experiments have turned up on this condition of ours.”

Okay, well, Tony could do that first. He had JARVIS pull up the data that had been collated from his past few hours of isolation and he slowly read the details out loud. As his focus turned away from Steve, the arousal that had been simmering during their conversation flared back into life. Tony gritted his teeth and pushed through. For Steve’s sake. For his own.

There was a small whimper from the speakers and Tony’s voice stumbled into silence. He stilled and listened. “Are you touching yourself?” he asked, incredulous and more than a little bit flattered. More than a little glad he had some hard evidence that this wasn't one-sided.

There was a pause and a faint grunt before Steve answered him. “Of course I’m touching myself. Should I stop?”

“Do you want me to keep talking?”

There was another muffled grunt and Tony could hear the sounds of skin rubbing along slick skin. “I’d like that, thanks.”

Trust Steve to politely ask for more jerk-off material. Tony turned back to his screens and valiantly withheld from pulling up the video feed of the hallway outside. He still couldn’t help pulling his pants down to grab a hold of himself even as he read over the theories JARVIS had compiled. Everything about animal heats, the pharmacology and physiology of aphrodisiacs, and the feasibility of modern humans responding to pheromones. It was dry, it was too scientific, and he couldn’t be more turned on by the thought of Steve touching himself to his voice on the other side of the wall. He wondered if Steve was still wearing his Captain America gear, if his biceps were straining and bulging through the sleeves as they flexed and extended. He wondered if Steve would like it rough and fast. He wondered if Steve would like it gentle and slow.

Tony came twice more, not even attempting to bite back his shouts of pleasure. He was rewarded with the sounds of Steve’s groans of something that sounded like Tony’s name. He didn’t think he could come any more, but his entire body was still flushed and the antsy buzzing still hadn’t receded from underneath his skin. And he still wanted Steve, so, so much.

“Tony,” Steve said at last, voice breathless. “Why am I outside and why won’t you let me in? Aren’t we—can’t we—do this together? Aren’t we supposed to do this together?”

This was heading into a territory Tony didn’t particularly know how to articulate. He leaned back against the wall, having unconsciously moved closer to Steve from the cot while he’d been talking, and tried to think it over. When he thought he could put it to words, he opened his mouth with an answer.

“Science?” Okay, maybe he couldn’t do it.

“Tony.” And Steve saw right through his bullshit even if it was half true.

“I don’t want our first time to be like this,” Tony said, this time trying for something that was a little bit of the truth.

“At the rate we’ve been going, I wondered if we’re ever getting a ‘first time’.”

This was the worst time to talk about this. Tony closed his eyes and kept his hands firmly planted on the knees of his crossed legs. He wondered where Steve’s hands were. “JARVIS said you had something to say? Is it about the others? What happened to the others? J, what happened to the others?”

“Thor remains off-planet. The Hulk has not yet returned to headquarters but he appears to be functioning within normal parameters – he is currently posing for photographs with tourists in Central Park as reported by no less than five networks. I am happy to inform you that Agents Barton and Romanoff have alighted at the Landing Bay ten minutes prior to this minute. They no longer appear to be under an unknown influence, as you or Captain Rogers appear to be. They have asked me to pass on a message. Shall I play it?"

Tony flicked his fingers in the affirmative.

 _"Whatever it is you think you're compelled to do,"_ came Barton's voice, _"if it's not mass murder, then just do it. Me and Natasha had some unfinished business with someone. We took care of it and the compulsion went away. Don't worry, no laws were broken, no one's dead, and no one's honor is destroyed. Well. No one important. Jarvis is helping us keep an eye on you. We're going to track the kid down. Hawkeye and Widow out._ Message complete.”

'Unfinished business'. Tony dropped his head into his hands. He didn't want to think about what that meant when his 'compulsion' was to rip all his clothes off and press Steve into a bed.

“That's all, right?” Tony spoke up, pushing away a surge of panic. “Can I go back to work now?” Tony Stark, dodging the emotional confrontation like only he could.

“That gives me more questions,” Steve replied immediately, and Tony could almost see the little shake of head that accompanied it. “We need to talk about why our 'unfinished business' is this situation.”

"What situation?"

"That I want to have sex with you. Unless I read it wrong, you also want to have sex with me."

Tony definitely couldn't deny that. "How forward of you. Then what's our 'unfinished business', in your very honest opinion? The raging erections? The soup for brains? That the world lacks a Stark-patented fucking machine?"

“The lack of a first time in our non-existent sex life. And my original question of why we can't just have sex.”

Trust Steve to barge right through Tony’s bullshit to hit the nail dead center on the head at a time like this. In times of crisis, Captain America pulled through. You could always rely on Captain America to come up with a winning strategy at the last minute. And Tony had walked himself right into the problem, so he couldn't even claim he was ambushed. He must have missed the moment Steve had gone into ‘mission mode’ with him because _they were actually having a serious conversation about sex._

Tony thought that they’d been doing fine with this relationship, ‘taking it slow’ as the saying went. There had been cold showers, many cold showers, and also many very long and warm showers alone, but he was happier in these few months than he probably had the right to be and he thought Steve was happy as well.

Tony wasn't ready for this conversation.

“All right,” Tony began, desperately scrambling together a response. “We’re both under some kind of influence. I’m trying very, very hard to figure out exactly what this influence is so that I can figure out a fix and be very, very sure that when we _do_ do anything, it’s of our own accord, and not because some kid threw a hissy fit and made us do it. I refuse to be controlled by something that does not have at least some kind of scientific explanation because, let me tell you, I am _not_ calling this magic and brushing it off as inexplicable. I know all I want to do right now is to lick you all over, and honestly, that’s not far from the usual for me when it comes to you. All of that aside, I am patient zero. You are also patient zero, but I can’t access you because I might eliminate my status as patient zero by way of copulation. Did I say that I’m not going to call it _magic_? Yeah, I’m not. I’m going to study this thing by studying myself, gather some data, and by the time I'm not constantly distracted by fantasies about fucking you into every solid surface in the Tower and beyond, maybe I can come to a conclusion as to what exactly the kid pulled on us and maybe get a paper or two out of it in a journal that wouldn’t mind accepting prolonged, repeated masturbation as a variable. Bruce was on the editorial board of a few of them so maybe I have a chance if they still accept the word of Hulk. He knows more about this than me. Your turn.”

“I—“

Tony waited for him to continue but there was only more silence. “Steve?” he tried after a worrying amount of time passed without anything further from Steve.

“Uh. This might not be the best time for talking. I’ll—I’ll come back tomorrow. Give you your twenty-four hours. Good night, Tony.”

There was a shuffling noise and more silence from Steve. Tony threw his hands up, mouth hanging open. So much for ‘serious conversation’.

“Captain Rogers has left the hallway and is heading back to the penthouse, sir.” JARVIS supplied before Tony could ask. There was a hint of exasperation in his voice and Tony couldn’t blame him.

Tony was both very relieved and very annoyed. He didn't know what he'd expected from Steve after his bullshit ramble. He’d deflected like a champ. But he'd also had a chance, maybe, to explain himself properly and he probably blew it. Steve had left without a word, without saying his piece. Tony didn’t even have the mental acuity to worry about that.

He closed his eyes. “Continue Phase Two tomorrow, J,” he said in lieu of wallowing in Steve’s non-response. He was achingly hard again, his body having apparently recovered during the down time. Wallowing or no, thinking about Steve was enough to get his heart pumping hard again, not to mention the steadily more insistent fantasies of Steve clothed, Steve unclothed—

He shuffled back to the cot and forced himself to sleep by way of masturbating some more to the memory of Steve calling out his name.

 

* * *

 

The morning came with an unpleasant surprise. Tony should maybe have expected that, but waking up from endless, vivid dreams about having sex with Steve in the most impractical of places and positions and situations wasn’t always associated with ruined undergarments. He ran the gamut of tests again then took a long, cold shower while trying to fight off the memory of dream-Steve sliding into him, filling him until he was full almost to bursting, again and again and again—

God dammit.

Again, he found no biological changes. He noted that his heart rate and brain waves were almost at baseline while he'd been speaking with Steve the day before. That didn't explain why picturing Steve in his mind could make him come untouched. He couldn't explain anything. He was failing all the cognitive tests because he just couldn’t _think_. There was still that tingling under his skin, and an easy hardness in his pants whenever his thoughts veered anywhere near Steve. His hands were now shaking even when his body was too spent to do anything other than shiver and sweat with desire.

No calls came his way, as dictated by the lockdown, but he had JARVIS read him the prodding messages from Clint and Natasha, who were still following leads with Maria on the kid. Bruce was still Hulk. Thor was still AWOL. Tony just wanted _Steve_ and _Steve_ hadn't made contact again since he’d left so abruptly the night before.

The rest of the morning passed slowly. So slowly. He tried going back to non-sexual distractions, back to Phase One. But his mind refused to focus on any of the projects he had in progress and his hands shook too much for any delicate work. Meditating still didn’t work. Exercise didn’t work. Cold showers just made him shiver harder. He couldn’t take a nap. Food gave him interesting thoughts on their potential uses in bed. He couldn’t focus on anything he tried to read or have read to him. All forms of entertainment ended with him reaching into his pants to pull himself back from the edges of what he would class as madness.

With four hours to go of his entirely arbitrary choice of twenty-four hours, he decided to just screw it all and threw the project out the window. Taking his pants and all the various sensors off permanently, Tony grabbed the lube and a handful of toys, lay back on the cot, and worked himself open with his fingers as he let his mind fantasize.

 _God._ Steve was hot, there was no doubt about it. But something about Captain America bending him over and fucking into him in full uniform did things to Tony's heart that couldn't be healthy. Something about shoving Captain America against a wall and taking that uniform off piece by piece while he remained in the fully powered Iron Man suit—he plunged his fingers harshly into himself, thrust once, twice, into the slick grip of his fist, and came all over the sheets with a yell.

Two hours later, Tony’s state could only be described as utterly miserable. His mind had been reduced to two simple thoughts: sex and Steve. He lay back onto the cot, cleaned and showered inside and out, pants back on, and, with huge effort, dragged his sluggish thoughts back to examining the entire situation. He had been so sure that whatever it was that had been forced on them, he would have thrown it off in twenty-four hours. And there were still two hours left.

Tony groaned long and loud, theatrical for his own sake, and tried and failed to not think about the softness of Steve’s skin as he reached between his legs again. This was torture.

His door buzzed at the twenty-three hour mark. It was Steve, and Tony almost wanted to cry at the overwhelming feeling of desperation that was coursing through his body. There was no other word for it. He was desperate. Every cell in his body had been stoked by his desire with every passing hour of the past day and he was almost at a breaking point with a simple _need_. He wasn't even ashamed that he’d positioned himself as close to the door as he could in anticipation of it eventually opening. He just couldn’t take it anymore. His arms alone couldn’t take it anymore, let alone his dick or his ass. Just as well he couldn’t muster up two intelligent thoughts because he didn’t know if creating a fucking machine out of this ordeal was something he wanted on his list of accomplishments.

He waved at JARVIS to open the line and simply grumbled in greeting.

“Tony–I–can you talk?”

Tony grumbled an affirmative.

“I know it’s a really bad time“ –Tony snorted– "but why haven’t we had sex?”

“Because I’m trying to conduct a thorough scientific investigation.” The words left Tony’s mouth in a reflection of his own justifications for denying himself what he wanted.

“Please don’t dodge this again. You know what I mean.”

"That’s rich coming from you," Tony retorted. "Why'd you dodge your part yesterday? We were having a moment." Tony squinted at the ceiling, trying to remember. "Weren't we? And you were the one who ran!"

"You didn't answer my question then, either."

Tony couldn’t deny that.

"But," and Tony heard the hesitation in Steve’s voice loud and clear, "I couldn't stay because your voice and what you were saying about fucking me into surfaces was going to make me knock down the walls—"

"Would've welcomed it," Tony mumbled.

"—and I…needed you to be honest with me.” Tony heard him take a deep breath. “I don’t want us doing anything we’ll regret. I’m sorry I left. We're going to talk. This time I’m not leaving until we do. I know there's more to it than just 'doing it of our own accord'. You've been avoiding this for a while. Tony, please. Talk to me."

Tony let out a harsh breath. This was really not a good time for this. His body was screaming at him to open the door but his mind was still stuck somewhere with his baggage. How could he say it to Steve in a way that didn’t make him sound tragic? He was trying for a mature, stable, long-term relationship and he wasn’t going to go into the habits of his old ways which had resulted in not-very-long-term relationships? There was a pattern there and he was trying to break it in order to _not_ break it with Steve? He could take the Iron Man suit to extremes but this was all on Tony the man, not Tony in the tin can, and Tony the man couldn't just make his hang-ups go away with a well placed repulsor blast? He was…waiting for the right time to broach the subject?

“I was waiting for the right time,” he said. Right, and that wasn’t how he should have said it.

“What about that time I first crawled into bed with you and every day after that?” It wasn't said with an accusatory tone and Tony took comfort in that.

He let the soft memories of Steve spooned behind him during those comfortable nights float across his mind. “That was—that was—it was convenient at the start. I helped you, you helped me. Nightmares, be gone. There was kissing, wasn’t there? We got around to kissing. We still do that. Some petting. Some heavy petting. We go on dates! I endured art galleries for you! And it's not like you ever made a move to go further so it's not entirely _my_ fau—“

“Tony.”

For someone who played hide-and-seek with his emotions even more than Tony did at times, Steve was almost like a bloodhound with these things. Tony braced himself and spit the truth out in one breath.

“This is one of the longest relationships I’ve been in, the happiest I've been in a long time, and I think it’s because of the lack of sex. I’m a future guy, I see patterns. And I want to keep this relationship. I don’t want it to end because we do have sex. Which is what has always happened. There. That’s it. That’s why there’s only been heavy petting!” Because some people stopped angling for sex after they’ve had it. But a lot more people stopped angling for _him_ after they’ve had the sex. The last time may have been years and years ago, before Iron Man, but that fear never left. Steve was different, Tony knew that. Steve was good to him, and he'd like to think he was good to Steve. But an irrational fear was irrational for a reason.

There was silence from the speakers and Tony fidgeted with the hem of his sleeve as he waited, hands itching for anything to distract him from an answer he was dreading.

“That can’t be true,” Steve said.

Tony pulled a good thread roughly from his sleeve. “You asked,” he said. “And you lusting after me now only when we’re both very unscientifically sex whammied isn’t helping.”

Steve sighed and muttered something unintelligible. “Sorry. That didn't come out right. I just." Another sigh. "I didn’t know you thought that way.”

“Yeah, well.” Tony shrugged half-heartedly. “Hazard of being a playboy billionaire.”

“And now you’re my genius Shellhead.”

Tony snorted, heart warming a little at the equally teasing and affectionate nickname. “I need to come up with a ridiculous nickname for you. Hang on, it’s coming to me!”

“I’m sure it is, Shellhead.”

Tony smiled at the workshop at large.

His part was done. He’d put himself out there. The ball was firmly in Steve’s court now. As if reading his mind, Steve spoke up again after an amiable silence.

“I want you to know I'm not going to leave you after we have sex. That was never an option. I'm not with you now just to get sex. But I've also wanted you for a long time, and I'm going to keep wanting you. That’s not something I can deny."

And Tony’s erection was perking up again. “How can you be sure it’s not the bullshit very unscientific sex whammy talking?” he asked, just to be extra sure. God, he wanted to be sure. He wanted it to be real. He wanted _Steve_.

“We wouldn’t be in this situation if we were having regular sex before this,” Steve said, and wasn’t that the truth. “It’s making me a little crazy,” Steve went on, voice getting stronger, “but I’ve still got my memories intact. I know I wanted this. I do want this. You can't expect me to sleep next to you every night, kiss you goodnight every evening, kiss you good morning every day, and not want the rest of you as well. But if you don’t want this…it’s not a deal breaker if we don’t ever have sex. It never was. I’m gonna be taking a lot of cold showers and spending longer in the changing room but I can handle it. I’m not one to step out into a relationship just for the sex. And before you ask, I’m not just saying this because I really want to have sex with you right now.”

“Oh, my God, Steve,” Tony rasped out, hands clenching on his tensed thighs. “Are you sure you’re not reading off a teleprompter projected from my brain?”

“You asked,” Steve echoed, voice sounding hopeful. Much like Tony’s spirits.

“You know I want you. Always have,” Tony said, hands shaking for entirely different reasons. “Whammy or no.” He stood, reservations cast to the winds.

“Will you let me in? Put us both out of our misery? I want you. I’ve always wanted you, all of you, and I always will. I'll always be here for you.”

Tony was already facing the door when it opened to finally admit Steve into his sight. Another two steps later and Steve was hoisting him up by the thighs and spinning to slam him back-first right onto the wall by the door.

God. _Yes._

This was different. Electric. This was Steve right before him in the flesh, smelling of musk and aftershave and— _oh, God_. Tony didn’t know how he’d managed to resist it before but this was like a dam breaking and he wasn’t going to resist it anymore.

He wrapped his legs tighter around Steve’s waist and let his hips do the talking, desperately trying to get closer to the hardness he could feel below Steve’s belt. His hands buried themselves into Steve’s short hair and he let his mouth be plundered by Steve’s hot tongue.

His need was too strong. It was everything. Every stroke of Steve’s tongue, every scrape of Steve’s teeth, and every squeeze at his hips fanned the heat brewing within him. He felt so empty. He needed to be filled. He needed to fill Steve. Anything. He gripped tighter at Steve’s hair, drawing out a low moan, and he seized the opportunity to invade Steve’s mouth and take what was always his.

Steve’s hands left his hips to roam his body, so Tony was being held up only by Steve’s weight pressing him hard against the wall. The very thought made Tony’s brain almost scatter into oblivion. He gathered the last of his wits and took complete control of the kiss, fingers scratching desperately as he stroked down Steve’s neck to drag them closer together.

Fuck, he needed—

He needed so much—

 _Steve_.

There was something fumbling between his legs, and he gasped at the pressure against his groin. Breaking the kiss, Tony looked between them to see Steve pushing his own pants down and freeing his impressive erection. The sight of it leaking and flushed was almost enough to make Tony come then and there.

Steve started to suck at his neck and Tony threw his head back, a yell caught in his throat. There was too much to feel. There was too much _everything_ – heat, sweat, skin, tongue, _Steve_ – and he still needed more. He needed to get closer, he needed—he rocked his hips forward and realized the problem immediately.

“Steve. Take my pants off.”

Steve continued to mouth at his neck, no doubt leaving impressive bruises for the next few days. _Marked._ “Why aren’t they off already?”

Tony kicked a heel into Steve's ass. “What do you think, I’d just waltz around naked when I’m horny?”

“I’d prefer that.”

Tony almost came. “Show me your kinky side some more.”

“Right now," Steve said, breath ghosting over Tony's lips. "I just want to see you come. Then you can fuck me through a bed.”

Tony whimpered.

He scrambled to help Steve shove his pants off his hips just enough to feel the heat of skin pressed against sweat-slick skin. It was almost harder to do than the twenty-four hours of almost-celibacy he’d endured but when his dick did finally touch Steve’s, the last little slivers of sanity left him and he gave in to the primal urge to just rut and take and take and give and give—

It didn’t take long before he came into Steve’s fist, his erection twitching alongside Steve’s as they thrust together, releasing together, Steve’s deliciously filthy promises breathed into his ear. The feeling of his orgasm was like a cool shower for his fevered mind. He felt his floaty sanity reassert itself; the tendrils of coherent thought were snapping back into place one by one and he used it to savor the warmth of Steve enveloping him.

This was always something he could have had. Would still have.

Tony sagged against the wall and let Steve support his entire dead weight. Steve’s chest heaved against his and he used the rhythm to regain his own breath. He knew he was in his right mind again; he was thinking straight, and his body had the familiar languid heaviness and sensitivity of his usual post-orgasm high. His dick wasn't hardening immediately. His dick was normal again.

Stroking gently at Steve’s hair, he ran the memory of their conversation from just before this session against the wall. Steve was an even bigger sap than he was, if those last words were anything to go by, and somehow it made Tony’s heart dance to know that his sentiment was returned. This was something he always could have had, whammy or no, and now he had a half-naked Steve between his thighs to think objectively about.

"Did we fix it?" he asked, just to be sure.  
  
"I think so. It doesn’t feel like I’m trying to rip my skin off anymore.” Steve nuzzled into Tony’s neck. “The past couple of months without having, uh, sex with you might’ve been harder."

Tony felt a rare blush rise up his cheeks. He knocked his head back against the wall with a thud. "Ugh. Sorry I've been difficult.”

"Nothing to be sorry for,” Steve murmured, a hand moving to cradle the back of Tony’s head. “It’s not all your fault. And I like it when we talk."

Tony sighed and rested his forehead on Steve's shoulder, closed his eyes, and let himself bask.

A few moments later, his dick gave a twitch as it tried to harden again. Steve, on the other hand, was more than a little bit hard. It appeared that he’d missed out on quite a lot with Steve and it was presenting an interesting problem.

“Steve. I’m still horny. Normal horny.” Tony nudged at Steve’s shoulder. When Steve didn’t respond other than by burying his nose deeper into Tony’s neck, Tony squeezed at Steve’s ribs with his knees. “C’mon, Rogers. I'd fuck you, but I might need a few hours. You, though, you can start making do on all those promises.”

Something like a whine escaped from Steve’s throat and his hips shimmied against Tony’s making Tony gasp. Steve was fully hard again; Hallelujah, they were halfway there.

Steve mumbled something about Tony being crass and didn’t make to move. It would have been more effective if he wasn’t also kneading slowly at Tony’s ass.

Tony continued to nudge at Steve’s shoulder, punctuating each prod and poke with small nudges of his hips and kisses feathered beneath Steve's jaw. He let his hands roam like he'd always wanted to when they'd been in bed together, cataloguing all of Steve's sensitive spots, where Steve leaned into his touch, where Steve shivered at the contact. The familiar feeling of – dare he say it – _love_ rose to the surface of his mind, unclouded by anything as animalistic as the simple urge to rut. The crude, pornographic images he’d conjured up in his addled mind were replaced by the feeling of Steve’s hot breath in his ear, the tickle of Steve's hair on his cheek, the solid weight of Steve's body holding him up, holding him close, and of this quiet contentedness wrapped around them. This was better than anything he could have imagined. And he would be a fool to not want more.

He ground slow and deliberate against Steve's erection. “Bedroom?” he asked innocently. "I'm already prepped, loose." He wriggled his hips. "You could push right in." He delighted in Steve's full body shudder and broken moan.

“Cot’s closer.”

Tony grinned. “Knew I kept you around for a reason. Hop to it, soldier.”

Steve laughed and Tony hung on tight for the ride as they made their way over to the makeshift cot at the back of the workshop, where they could enjoy each other at a more leisurely pace.

Maybe magic wasn’t such bullshit after all.

 

* * *

 

**EPILOGUE**

_Magic wasn’t such bullshit after all._ That sentiment lasted until the witch showed up again and blew a giant hole in the side of his precious Tower. She'd only been renovating with her _magic_ and she was taking inspiration from his Tower, she said. It was supposedly an accident, she said. Tony was not amused.

After going over his ‘experiment’ with a clear mind, Tony came to the conclusion that whatever the sex whammy was, it definitely messed with his intelligence at least a little because the planning that had gone into the entire project had been so embarrassingly inept he decided to delete it all (soft delete—JARVIS kept a backup and Bruce definitely had a copy. Tony also kept a copy of the security footage of inside the workshop at the end of the twenty-four hours which he may or may not have watched numerous times when Steve was away on long missions with Wilson). That Steve had apparently gotten himself off about sixty times in the twenty-four hours was also a piece of data he hoarded with glee.

Tony did think about getting the witch kid to cast the whammy again to conduct a more scientifically rigorous study, this time with oversight from Bruce, but it was probably inappropriate to ask that of a kid who apparently didn't even realize she’d cast a sex spell on anyone else at all; some things Tony just had to let slide onto Xavier’s plate.

In the end, though, it didn’t really matter, because he was still the one who was getting to have spectacular sex with Steve. Witch kid could suck it.

  


 

**Author's Note:**

> And then AOU happens. But it ends differently!
> 
> I hope that was as enjoyable to read as it was to write! I welcome any and all feedback so please leave a comment if you have anything at all you wish to say!
> 
> A rebloggable Tumblr post of this fic can be found [[here]](http://coastertoaster.tumblr.com/post/163880499760/fic-bullshit-magical-sex-whammy-by-coaster-when).


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